


my lips against your skin and, lo, i am undone

by FateChica



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Slice of Life, all the mike wheeler feels, mike wheeler feels, really that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 21:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17733329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FateChica/pseuds/FateChica
Summary: his lips on hers are everything - a prayer, an offering, an expression of joy and love and all the good things she brings into his life.but most of all, to touch his lips to hers, to take in everything she has to offer, is a gift he can never repay.





	my lips against your skin and, lo, i am undone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freshbloom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshbloom/gifts).



> Inspired by [this tumblr post](http://fatechica.tumblr.com/post/182648887651/impusively-kissing-kissing-when-laughing-kissing). I read this and almost immediately wanted to write about some of these kinds of kisses. Only I couldn't pick just a few types, so I wrote _all_ of them.
> 
> I'm dedicating this to my darling Jazz, who's simple tag when she reblogged this from me pushed me to write this. I don't think this would have all poured out of me at once if not for you, dear heart. ily, boo.

_i cannot resist…_

It’s a spring afternoon – lunchtime at Hawkins High. There’s been countless days like this and there will be countless more.

Sun shining high in the sky, bathing the courtyard in gentle warmth tempered by a soft breeze that dances along the air. No one wants to be inside today.

Amid the sounds of laughter and conversation, all melding into a din that could almost be described as deafening, the Party has managed to stake out a corner of this space. It’s a claim made easy by the undeniably dynamic combination of El’s surprising popularity and Max’s unyielding self-assuredness.

_(it’s surprising, sometimes, how easily the boys live in the shadow of these two warrior women, letting the girls’ combined power shield them from the abuse they suffered in middle school. but the girls are so much **cooler** than them, so the boys gladly follow and don’t think twice about it.)_

Conversation flows easy and unrushed, natural and unthinking as a river, as they talk about what they have planned for the upcoming weekend – going to the movies followed by the next installment of the campaign Mike’s been leading them through over the past few weeks.

El chimes in, her voice bright and excited and beautifully clear and Mike turns to look at her from where she’s sitting next to him, where she _always_ is.

(It’s unusual, at Hawkins High, to find one without the other and where Mike or El is, everyone always knows the other isn’t far behind. They are a packaged deal, not Mike and El, but _Mike &El,_ and everyone has long ago stopped thinking this a strange and marveling concept. It’s simply the natural order of the universe.)

The shape of El’s words gets lost the second his gaze lands on her and Mike finds himself enchanted by the spell she weaves around him as easy as breathing – he doesn’t even think she’s aware of the true power she holds. She may be able to lift objects with her mind or find people in the space between worlds, but her _true_ superpower is her ability to make his brain go completely quiet whenever he looks at her, his every thought ensnared by _her._

She’s beautiful today – she’s beautiful _every_ day, actually. Her hair’s up in a high ponytail, held back by a pale pink scrunchie, the ends of her soft curls brushing delicately against the skin along the top of her neck in a way that has his fingers itching to mimic the caress. Her eyes sparkle with good humor, cheeks rosy from a combination of the light blush she’s wearing plus the natural flush of excitement. And her lips – _god,_ her lips – shining and glossy from whatever lip balm she uses, full and expressive, curled up in a beguiling smile.

Mike’s spellbound, truly and completely, and he never wants to break free. He’s 16 and in love and _nothing_ will ever be as good as this.

_(he will think the same thing at 18 and 23 and 35 and for all the days of the rest of his life until it’s a wonder he can contain all the love he feels for her in the physical limitations of his own body. the love he feels for her is boundless, greater than all the things held in the known universe. how can one person be expected to contain it all?)_

El looks over at him, then. Her face is a mosaic of amusement and curiosity, confirmation and affirmation, love and contentment and peace.

_God, he loves her._

He responds, then, not to whatever El is looking to him for, but to the surge of emotion that wells up inside of him. Mike leans over, without word or warning, and captures those lush, beautiful lips in a sudden kiss. El tenses up in surprise, but it’s only for a moment until she’s melting against him. Her lips part oh so gently and the rest of the world fades away – the groans from the rest of the Party, the carefree raucousness of their schoolmates, the sun beating down on his shoulders, the breeze in his hair, _all of it_ – until there is nothing but him and her and the glorious magic that sparks between them with the simple touch of his lips to hers.

_If only,_ he thinks, _it could always be like this._

 

* * *

  
_to taste the joy from your lips…_

There is, perhaps, nothing Mike loves more in the world than the sound of El’s laugh. From the delicate giggles when he’s teasing or flirting with her, her cheeks flushing with the prettiest pink he’s ever seen, to the uproarious, full body laughs that bring tears to her eyes and make her clutch her sides, and every flavor in between, he loves it all. It’s rich and beautiful and it makes his heart soar whenever he hears it.

But, most of all, her laughter means that’s she’s _happy,_ free by his side, allowed to take joy in all the things life has to offer, things he knows she never thought she’d ever have.

So, even when she’s laughing _at_ him, Mike doesn’t mind.

_Much._

“Oh, very funny, El.” It’s hard to look stern and serious when one’s face is covered in whipped cream, but Mike certainly hopes he’s pulling it off. He’d been putting together an ice cream sundae for them to eat while they watch a movie, taking advantage of the fact that their daughters are visiting Grandma and Grandpa Hopper for the weekend to have a lazy date night at home -

_(“Hey, maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll score,” she teased him when they got home from work that Friday afternoon, eyebrows waggling comically as she grinned._

_“Nothing lucky about it,” he fired back, pulling her close to the sound of her giggles, his heart racing at the feel of her in his arms. Even after all these years, after high school and college and becoming adults and having kids, he **still** sometimes feels like he’s 13 and marveling at her sheer existence._

_He kisses her, then, because idea of **not** is too unbearable and it doesn’t take long until they’re racing each other to their bedroom, the house echoing with the sound of their laughter that changes soon into the sounds of their love made real, joy in every moment, thrilling and complete.)_

-when El snuck behind him in the kitchen, unawares, surprising him and causing him to aim the can of whipped cream he’d been spraying up towards his face instead of down on the bowl of ice cream sitting on the counter.

“I’m sorry!” El says between gasps of laughter, arms clutching her sides as she leans against the kitchen island. “It’s just – you have – you look-”

Her words get lost in between peals of laughter and, even though Mike’s heart sings at the sound of her happiness, he can’t let this stand. “Alright, that’s it, you,” he grumbles, grinning all the while, before he sets down the whipped cream and lunges for her.

El tries to dodge, but she’s not fast enough and, though she gasps and squirms in the sudden embrace, she’s still laughing, eyes sparkling with mirth. It’s the last sight Mike sees before he leans over and kisses her, her body trembling against his with muffled giggles, smiling all throughout. He’s getting whipped cream all over her face, their skin growing sticky and sweet, but neither of them care. The bright richness of the sweet treat explodes on his tongue as her mouth opens beneath his, both innocent and knowing all at the same time. He lets himself get carried away as her joy bleeds into him, the love he feels for her taking over until she’s all he knows, all he cares about.

And, behind him, the ice cream melts, forgotten.

 

* * *

  
_as an offering of my gratitude…_

El is the light of his life. There’s no doubt about that in Mike’s mind. She makes everything explode in a kaleidoscope of color and sensation, turning his life away from the dull gray it was before he met her.

But there are some days when the gray is too strong, clinging too tight, dragging him down into its listless, unfeeling depths.

On the days when it’s the worst, Mike doesn’t even have the energy to get out of bed. This is before therapists, before the word “depression” enters into his life and gives him a name to place to the deadening weight that sometimes consumes him.

His mom doesn’t know what to do – no matter what she does, it doesn’t “snap Mike out of the funk he’s in”.

But El knows what to do – she just _always_ knows, like his moods are a sixth sense she has. The days when it’s bad always find her at the Wheeler front door, waiting for Karen to let her in so she can lend Mike her quiet strength.

Today is one of those days. It’s summer, the sun high in a sky bright blue and gorgeous, but Mike feels like the weight of the world rests too heavy on his chest. Not even the warm temptation of summer can pull Mike from his bed and he lays there, staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

He drifts for a while, lost in a sea of his own bland thoughts, when the doorbell rings. He blinks and, what feels like a moment later – time has little meaning when this melancholy strikes him – his bedroom door quietly opens and shuts, soon followed by the sound of soft, muffled footsteps against the carpet.

Mike rolls over in bed just in time to see El crawling in beside him. Her hair is down, spilling across his pillow in soft, dark waves as she curls up next to him. Her arm drapes gently over his waist to hold him close.

_God, he loves her._

Neither of them say anything – they don’t _need_ to, and Mike’s so grateful for that. El’s the only person in his life who he can just _be_ with, no expectations, no need to fill the silence with meaningless words. Their love exists in the space between breaths, in the beating of his heart, in the soft sounds of the stillness that surrounds them. And on days like this, when words are all but impossible, the fact that El just _gets_ him is a lifeline he clings to ferociously when everything else just feels like too much.

And, blessedly, even when the world is awash in unfeeling gray, El’s presence, sweet and thrilling, cuts through the clouds that surround him, his heart skipping a beat at her closeness. It’s not enough to lift the weight of everything pinning him down, but it’s enough so that he can pull her into his arms and even closer to him, her warmth filling him, gentle and soothing and just what he needs.

Really, all he _ever_ needs is her, a fact that gets more and more apparent with each passing day.

Mike’s not sure how long they lay there, surrounded by each other, shielding each other from the outside world as Mike gladly borrows from the strength El so easily gives. His eyes drift closed and he dozes for a while, safe and content, love growing in his heart with each beat.

The sun’s still in the sky when he wakes and he opens his eyes to see El looking at him, her gaze soft and warm. A small smile dances across the curve of her lips, so full of love that Mike has a hard time swallowing, his throat thick.

Gratitude swells inside of him, a tide of emotion that helps lift him a little into the world of color, into the bright brilliance of El’s presence. He pulls her towards him, then, his cheek resting against her as he holds her tight. His lips brush just barely against her skin, along the apple of her cheek, his nose filling with the gentle scent of citrus and strawberries from her shampoo. “I love you,” he breathes, the first words he’s spoken in hours. But they’re the only words he needs, filled with all the things he wants to say, with all the ways he loves her.

El doesn’t need him to spout endless words, though – he _knows_ this and is forever grateful for her gentle understanding. She smiles at him, at his words, her lips stretching even further in a smile that outshines the sun, before she returns his words, her “I love you, too” soft and rich, and Mike hears the echoes of all the things he doesn’t put into words reflected back at him.

And he loves her all the more.

 

* * *

  
_be it plain as the nose on your face…_

“Mike, what are you doing?”

“What does it _look_ like I’m doing?”

“Um, being a nerd?”

“Hey, you’re my fiancée, so what does that say about you?”

“That I’ve horribly lowered my standards.”

“ _Ouch,_ that hurts, El.”

“The truth often does.”

Mike rolls his eyes and resists the urge to reach out and tickle her. But the tiny figurine in one hand and the equally tiny paint brush in the other keep him from carrying out that urge.

To be perfectly fair, though, it’s not like El doesn’t have a point. Really, it’s not every day that she comes home to find that her fiancé has taken up the entirety of their rickety, second-hand kitchen table with miniatures he found in the bargain bin of the comic book store a few blocks away.

“I was thinking of using these for our next campaign. What do you think?” Mike asks, pushing past the teasing remarks. He’s aware that he’s grinning like an idiot, but he just doesn’t care. Luckily for him, the gorgeous woman he gets to call his fiancée _loves_ that he’s a nerd.

_Yeah, take that, high school jocks._

El comes over, looking a little frazzled after a long day of her job at the public library, and drops her purse onto one of the empty chairs before she steps up next to him, her torso pressing against his shoulder. She leans over and Mike’s temporarily spellbound by the curtain of hair that falls between them, his fingers itching to run through the lush strands, and he bites back a groan when her hand comes up to push the hair behind her ear, the move delicate and almost sensual.

_(honestly, how he got so lucky to have her in his life, mike’ll never know. but she’s beautiful and smart and amazing and the fact that he gets to call her **his** is a gift he’ll never be able to repay for as long as he lives.)_

El purses her lips and looks across at the figurines on the table. “Is this…a hobbit?” she asks, grabbing one of the still un-painted figurines on the table.

“Yeah, it's a Lord of the Rings set,” Mike says, excitement threaded in his voice. “Got it, like, super cheap, too.”

El smiles at him as she sets the figurine down, honestly happy for his excitement. “That’s great, Mike.”

He grins back, eyebrows waggling mischievously. “If you’re nice to me, I’ll let you have first pick of which one’s yours.”

El rolls her eyes as she moves, fluid and graceful, forcing Mike to lift his arms as she swings herself over and onto his lap, her weight easily resting on his thighs as her knees bracket his hips. But despite the exasperation, she giggles as she clasps her hands behind his neck. Mike gives a start at the feel of her touch on his bare skin and he hurries to set down the figurine and paint brush in his hand so he can hold her, his hands landing on her hips out of a familiarity built up over the years.

“I get first pick, huh?” El asks, grinning, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Mike knows he’s looking up at her like he’s a lovesick fool. But he has a beautiful woman in his lap, a beautiful woman who’s looking down at him with a love so bright, it’s almost blinding. If he can’t look like a fool at _that,_ when can he? “If you’re nice to me, I said,” he reminds her, one eyebrow arching, heavy with suggestion.

El cocks an eyebrow in return. “And what would being nice to you entail?”

One of his hands slips up underneath the hem of the t-shirt El’s wearing, moving on instinct, seeking, as always, the soft warmth of her skin. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says as she gasps. “You could start with a kiss, see how that goes.” Yeah, he’s grinning like a goddamn fool and he can’t even bring himself to care.

El’s other eyebrow joins its twin, arching above her eyes, and her lips curl in a teasing smirk. “Ooh, you mean like this?” She leans forward, a giggle building in her throat, and presses her lips to the tip of his nose in a smacking kiss. Her giggles burst free as she pulls back, happy and carefree and triumphant.

Mike smiles despite himself – he can’t help it, she’s just _so cute_ – and pinches the skin of her bare waist, earning him a squeal that steals the breath from her giggles as she squirms to get away from his teasing fingers. “That’s _not_ what I meant and you know it.”

“Mike!” she exclaims, laughing and trying to duck away from where he’s still trying to tickle her. “Ok, _ok,_ I’m sorry,” she says. “Let me try again. I’ll get it right this time.”

Mike laughs then (honestly, how can he not?) and pulls her even closer. “Hmm, maybe I should just _show_ you what I mean. So you can make sure to get it right.”

“Hmm,” El breathes, one hand coming down to tease at the collar of his own shirt, her fingers dipping beneath to run along the skin of his collarbone. “That’s a good idea. You are _so_ much smarter than I am, after all.”

“Damn straight,” Mike says before he leans in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that has him forgetting everything except for _her,_ the figurines left to sit unattended as he loses himself in her.

Later – _much_ later – he holds her close as they snuggle beneath the covers, surrounded by the soft sheets of their bed, naked except for the love that shines through in every ragged breath and gentle caress. Her hair’s a little tousled from him running his fingers through it repeatedly and she’s glowing as she smiles up at him. His heartbeat, which is still calming down, stumbles a bit under the sheer force of her beauty, skipping in his chest and making him feel all tingly.

He leans over, lips stretched in a grin, as he returns her earlier favor and presses a soft kiss to the tip of her nose. He laughs when she scrunches up her nose. “What was that for?” she asks, still a little breathless. It’s nice to know that she’s just as affected by him as he is by her.

“Well, you seemed to enjoy it so much when you did it earlier. Wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he says, his hand sliding around her to rest on the small of her back, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on her skin.

“Hmm, what’s the verdict?”

“Adorable, just like you.”

“Oh god, that was a _horrible_ line.”

“Psh, don’t tell me you didn’t love it.”

“I love _you._ Your pick-up lines, however, leave much to be desired.”

“Rude.”

“Eh, you love me and you know it.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I love you.”

“I know.”

 

* * *

  
_or the sweetness of your brow…_

Sleeping next to El is one of his favorite things in the entire world. The opportunities to do it are far and few between, considering they’re still only 15, but whenever Mike has the chance, he loves to curl up with her and take a nap. He just loves holding her close, knowing that she’s _there_ , that she’s the last thing he thinks about when he falls asleep and the first thing he notices when he wakes up.

Honestly, Mike can’t _wait_ until they’re old enough so they can move in together. He may only be 15, but he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that El’s _it_ for him, his one perfect person, and he knows how lucky he is that he found her when he was 12. He gets to grow up and grow old with her and it’s honestly the best feeling in the entire universe.

Which is why he can’t wait until they can get their own place, where he can sleep with her _whenever he wants._ But he’ll take what he can get in the meantime. Like on this quiet, Saturday afternoon in the middle of November. The Wheeler house is empty except for the two of them – his mom off running errands and dragging Holly along with her, his dad playing golf with his friends somewhere – and Mike and El take the opportunity to snuggle up in the basement fort he still refuses to take down.

Sure, it’s had to grow to accommodate holding the two of them, especially considering Mike’s grown almost a foot in the last couple of years, but as long as they don’t mind being close, Mike and El can fit beneath the sheeted walls and propped up chairs just fine.

And they _never_ mind being close.

(Honestly, the idea that they would ever mind is just _preposterous._ )

They trade soft kisses for a little while before the soft warmth that surrounds them like a cocoon lulls them into an easy sleep. Sophomore year is tougher than their freshman year, the schoolwork harder, classes more intense, and keeping up takes a lot of energy out of them. This is especially true for El, who puts on a good face during the day, but Mike knows she sometimes gets overwhelmed with _everything_.

Even after being “officially” in public for the past couple of years, there are still a few reminders here and there that El’s childhood was anything but normal. Like the occasional bout of social anxiety that crops up, often without warning. It’s only El’s stubborn nature that keeps her from falling apart in front of everyone. She saves that for when she’s alone with Mike, unable and unwilling to hide anything from him, and she lets him take her into his arms as if the simple act of hugging her can shield her from the overwhelming pressure of _too much._

These moments help, Mike knows – these quiet moments where it’s just the two of them, no pressure from anyone, where they can just _be_ and do whatever they want without people – like, say, _the Party_ – giving them shit for hugging and cuddling and being affectionate.

Mike wakes up first from the nap that’s taken hold of them. El’s curled up in his arms – where she always belongs, if you ask him – fast asleep.

_Oh._

God, he loves this moment, getting to watch her while she sleeps, where his greedy gaze can drink its fill and then some, where he just _stares_ at her, completely unable to take his eyes off of her. She’s so beautiful and now is no exception. Her hair, which is half pulled back, is a little tousled around her face and her skin is gently flushed with sleep, the light tan contrasting so nicely with the soft pink. Her lips are parted just so in sleep, relaxed and carefree, and Mike thinks she’s never looked prettier.

(She’d tell him her face gets all red and the pillow leaves lines on her face and her hair becomes a rats’ nest, so there’s no way she can be beautiful in sleep. But Mike knows she’s wrong, _so_ wrong. El’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his entire life, no matter what, and he’ll tell her that every day for the rest of their lives until she believes it. And, even then, he’ll keep doing it. Because it’s the truth and _friends tell the truth._ )

El lets out a sleepy noise, a quiet whimper that is nothing more than an involuntary sound as she shifts a bit in his arms, and Mike smiles at the sound, so cute and adorable, just the embodiment of everything that is _El_. He leans in, unable to stop himself, and presses his lips softly to the skin of her forehead. Her gentle scent envelops him, wrapping him in its soft, almost seductive embrace. Mike breathes deeply, invigorated and calmed all at the same time. Her skin is soft beneath his lips and her breath tickles his neck and collarbones as she continues to sleep.

It’s a pinnacle moment in a sea of perfection and love explodes in his chest, like fireworks in the night sky, bright and blazing. He just wants it to always be like this, wants to always be with her.

Mike knows he will someday. One day, it’ll be him and her against the world, completely and officially. They’ll have a house and a family and a _life_ together and it’ll be everything he’s ever wanted to have with her. He just has to wait.

Until then, though, he has this moment, this bright, beautiful moment with her in his arms and his lips against her forehead.

And it makes the wait just that much more bearable.

 

* * *

  
_the hands that hold me gently…_

Her palm is sweaty where it’s pressed up against his and Mike frowns over at her. Their hands are entwined together, fingers woven and gripping each other tight, so there’s no way Mike wouldn’t notice. “Are you nervous?” he asks, the words whispered so they can’t be overheard.

El chews on her lip and looks over at him, her face tight and drawn, worry reflected in her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she says and the small voice that leaves from her parted lips tugs violently at Mike’s heartstrings.

Mike squeezes her hand. “Don’t be sorry,” he says. “It’s totally understandable that you’re nervous. It’s not every day you become a big sister, after all.”

Much to the surprise of _everyone,_ Hopper and Joyce anywhere from minutes to hours away from welcoming another child into the world. Mike didn’t know that people their age could still _have_ babies, but it’s happening anyway.

Joyce is in labor, Hopper by her side, and El’s sitting with Will and Jonathan (who came down from NYU a couple of days before Joyce’s due date so he could be with the rest of the family) in the hospital waiting room.

Mike’s here for moral support – one, because he knows El _really_ doesn’t like hospitals and, two, he remembers what it was like when his mom had Holly, the fear and nerves and excitement, all rolled into one big mess of emotions. He’d been 10 when Holly was born, so not too far out from the 15 years old he is now.

El frowns over at him. “You don’t think….” She trails off, looking away as shame crawls over her features.

It’s Mike’s turn to frown as he shifts in the uncomfortable chair he’s sitting in so that he’s facing her completely. “What is it?” he asks, low and soothing. El’s not usually reluctant to share what she’s feeling, especially not with him where she doesn’t have to have the perfect words or know exactly what to say to explain herself. So that she is right now is definitely a cause for worry.

El sighs and her other hand comes to curl around the back of the one holding hers, her thumb brushing back and forth against his knuckles. “He’s not going to forget about me, is he? Now that he has a real kid?” An embarrassed blush crosses over her cheeks and El can’t hold his gaze for more than a moment before she’s looking down at their joined hands.

It hits Mike a second later, what she’s talking about. Now that Hopper is about to have a biological child with Joyce, it’s not surprising that El might think she’s being replaced, that she’ll be less because she’s not Hopper’s _real_ daughter. Which, for anyone who’s seen the father-daughter pair interact, is just a bunch of nonsense. It’s taken Mike a little while to get over Hopper keeping her hidden away from him for a year, but even he can see how much Hopper cares for El, how much he’s supported her and helped her learn and grow and given her what she needs to start to make her way in the world.

But Mike also knows, very intimately, the fear of being replaced and, though it’s irrational, it’s not immaterial.

So he squeezes her hand just that much tighter and uses his free hand to reach out for her, his fingers curling under her chin so he can lift her gaze to his. “Hopper _loves_ you, El,” he says. “Yeah, he’s gonna be busy with the new baby and everything, but that always happens. Babies take a lot of work. But he’s never going to stop being your dad and you’re never going to stop being his daughter. In fact, he’s probably gonna need your help.” Mike pauses, shrugging. “Besides, don’t tell anyone this, but babies are kinda cute, so you’re gonna want to be around to be the best big sister ever.”

El smiles, her eyes filling with tears. “You think so?”

“I _know_ so,” Mike says. He lifts their joined hands and presses a gentle kiss to the back of hers, her skin soft beneath his lips. He doesn’t miss the quiet, shaky sigh that El lets out and his heart goes out to her – he just hopes she’s taking whatever comfort he can give her.

“Thank you,” she says, the hand not holding his coming up to wipe away the tears that are threatening to spill.

“Any time,” Mike says, meaning it with every fiber of his being. He would do _anything_ for her.

She only ever has to ask.

 

* * *

  
_with delicate strength, beautifully deceptive…_

“Here, what do you think?”

Mike looks over from where he’s tossing a salad to see El holding a wooden spoon, arm outstretched, a dab of spaghetti sauce waiting for him to taste. He gives her a wry look, unable to hold back. “You sure you’re sure? Remember the _last_ batch you asked me to try?”

El returns Mike’s wry look with a flat one of her own. “Hey, I thought we agreed _never_ to talk about that.”

Mike holds up both of his hands in surrender. “Alright, fair point.”

One of the things that’s been interesting about living together, about being _adults_ together, is learning how to cook and essentially fend for themselves. They’re 21 years old, been living together for the last 3 years, and Mike sometimes thinks they’re _never_ going to figure it out all the way.

But, they keep trying. At the very worst, they’ll have a funny story to tell from their failures.

Except for El’s first batch of spaghetti sauce.

They don’t talk about that.

_Ever._

“Will you just try it? I need to know if I need to add more salt.”

Well, since she asked…. “Your wish is my command,” Mike says. The kitchen of their apartment is tiny, so it’s not like Mike has to reach very far for her and, he’s right in front of her before she can blink.

He reaches for her, his fingers wrapping around her wrist to guide the spoon to his mouth. Her skin is soft beneath his touch, his long fingers encircling her easily. Her wrists are tiny and slim, delicate and deceptively fragile and absolutely enchanting. He loves the way her wrists twist and bend when she tucks her hair behind her ear or gestures as she talks or does just about _anything_ with her hands.

_(really, he just loves **her**.)_

Mike tastes the sauce El’s offering to him, eyes squinting as he pays attention to the way the flavors explode on his tongue, all tomato-y and herb-y. “Yeah, add a little salt,” he says. But he doesn’t let go of her wrist. The sight of her skin, lightly tanned and creamy, peeking out from the gaps between his fingers, is just too enticing for Mike to resist. He pulls her towards him even more and, eyes locked on hers, raises her hand so he can press his lips to where her pulse flutters humming-bird fast beneath her skin.

El gasps and a pretty blush crawls up her cheeks, her lips parting just so, and Mike can see how she starts to breathe a little heavily. Her tongue flashes out to wet her lips and Mike bites back a groan at the sight. Suddenly, dinner is the _last_ thing on his mind.

“Mike, what are you doing?” El asks, breathy and high pitched, _overwhelmed._

Mike shifts his hand, revealing more of the skin on the inside of her wrist, and kisses just a little higher up, teeth nipping her skin before he presses a suckling kiss to soothe. The way she whimpers does nothing to stop him…and _everything_ to spur him on. “The spaghetti sauce can keep, yeah?” His own voice is low and ragged, now,

“Yeah, but-”

“Good,” Mike says as he reaches behind her for the dial on the stove, flicking it off as he pulls her flush against him, his mouth catching hers in a kiss that just sets them on _fire._ He’s dimly aware of the wooden spoon clattering on the ground behind him, but Mike really, _really_ doesn’t care. Not when her mouth opens beneath his, her arms coming up to wrap around his torso, her hands fisting in the fabric of his t-shirt. His own hands dive into her hair to hold her close as he all but _devours_ her, her whimpering moan resonating against his lips in a way that makes him _never_ want to stop.

Their evening takes a turn as they slowly make their way to the bedroom, dinner practically forgotten.

It ends up alright, though.

Plus, the spaghetti sauce turns out _fantastic._

 

* * *

  
_an offer of penance and comfort…_

It’s weird, how after such a hectic day, that silence seems… _unnatural._

But it’s the welcome kind, refreshing and new, and even though Mike’s exhausted, he smiles.

Besides, there’s no _way_ he’s as exhausted as El is right now.

_After all, **he** didn’t just give birth to their first child._

Mike didn’t know there was room in his heart to love someone else as much as he loves El, but from the moment he laid eyes on the tiny creature El brought into this world, a little girl with his dark hair and El’s button nose who they’ve named Grace Anne, he’s 100% head over heels in love. Just completely and totally _smitten._

_Not even a day old and she already has dad wrapped around her little finger._

And, oh, it’s been quite a journey to get this point. Months of pregnancy, where everyday felt like a new adventure, to one final mountain climb that lasted 19 hours, where Mike had never felt so helpless as he watched El fight and harness the kind of strength he never thought could exist in one person. But it was all worth it – all the worry and tears and bruised fingers from where El held on tight during those last moments as she pushed – because they finally got to meet their little girl.

Mike’s heart feels full to the point of bursting as he watches mother and daughter, El propped up in her hospital bed while she holds Grace close to her, all tiny and bundled and just about the most precious thing Mike’s ever seen in his entire life.

Beneath the exhaustion and the remnants of tear tracks, El looks _enraptured,_ unable to look away from the tiny person she carried inside of her for 9 months. He doesn’t blame her. What she just did was nothing short of miraculous and Mike will forever be in awe of her.

“Hey,” he says as he pushes his way further into the room, keeping his voice quiet so as not to overly disturb the scene in front of him.

El glances up at him and a complex play of emotions washes through him at the look in his wife’s eyes – tired, but full of love and pride and awe, happiness alighting in her gaze as she looks at him. “Hey,” she breathes, smiling. “Did you get a hold of your mom?” She looks back down at the bundle in her arms, which is fair since that’s where Mike’s attention is drawn as he walks over to the bed.

“Yeah, I did. They’re going to be driving out here in a couple of days,” Mike says as he slides on to the bed next to her, careful not to jostle either El or the baby. “Mom cried when I said it was a girl.”

El snorts, the sound light and delicate, but also a little distracted as she’s busy with drawing the tip of her finger down the gentle slope of Grace’s nose and across the fullness of her cheek. “Good cried or bad cried?”

“Good cried…I think.” Mike gently slides his arm around El’s shoulders, pulling her, pulling _his family_ close to him. He rests his cheek against El’s hair as he looks down at her daughter. “How are you two doing?”

“Good. She’s just dozing, I think. Living is exhausting, it seems.”

“Well, it’s all downhill from here,” Mike says with a quiet laugh. “So she’s in for a lifetime of disappointment.”

“Hmm, we’ll see.” There’s a long pause before El breathes out a shaky sigh. “Look what we made, Mike.”

Mike smiles, a flash of humor rising from the ashes of his exhaustion. “More like what _you_ made. My contributions were minimal and limited to that night we spent in front of the Christmas tree last year. And even then, you did at least half of the work.”

Mike can _feel_ more than he sees the eye roll El’s giving him right now and it makes him chuckle. “Don’t be crude,” she says. “And don’t sell yourself short. We wouldn’t be here if you didn’t remind me to eat and give me amazing foot massages at the end of the day.”

“My foot massages _are_ amazing, thank you.” Mike lets out a quiet breath and just _stares_ at his daughter. Fear, deep and primal and uncontrollable, crawls into him, mingling with the awe he feels at the sight of her, of this little girl who’s part him and part El. If he’s already at the point where he would do _anything_ for her after only 12 hours, how much worse is it going to be after a month? A year? 20 years? How do people be parents and _function?_

“Stop worrying.”

Mike grins, shaking his head a little, at the sound of El’s voice pulling him out of his own spiraling thoughts. “You start reading minds when I wasn’t looking?”

“No, I just know you, Mike Wheeler,” El says, a smile in her voice, rich with the knowledge of a life lived together. He’s known her for 15 years and it still surprises him just how well she knows him sometimes.

“True. And yet, you married me anyway.”

“Well, it was just to get this little one. You’re no longer needed, I’m afraid.”

Mike snorts. “Oh, please. Who’ll give you foot massages then?”

“Hmm, good point,” El says after a moment. “Ok, you can stay.”

Mike laughs then, because he can’t _not_ , and he pulls her even closer so he can brush his lips across El’s temple, her skin soft and delicate beneath his touch. “I love you, so much.” Tears prickle the corners of his eyes and form a lump in his throat and it’s not outside the realm of possibility that he’s just going to start crying right here and now.

“I love you, too,” El whispers. “Always.”

 

* * *

  
_both soft and capricious…_

“What are you doing?”

“Touching you.”

Ok, stupid question. “Well, I _guessed_ that. _Why_ are you touching me?”

Her fingers stop what they’re doing, tips resting lightly against his cheek. “Do I need a reason?”

Mike opens his eyes and looks over at her. “No, I’m just curious. So sue me for wanting to know what my brand new fiancée is doing.”

El smiles and leans over from where she’s lying next to him in bed, propped up on one elbow so she can look down at him. She brushes her nose against his in a soft Eskimo kiss. “You’re just nosy, is what you are,” she says with a soft giggle.

Mike rolls his eyes. “Fine, you caught me. I just like being up in everybody’s business.” He looks back at her, grinning. “Especially _yours._ ”

“Well, you did just ask me to marry you, so I guess you’re technically allowed to be all up in my business.” El pauses, grinning, a knowing look in her eyes. “In _all_ meanings of the word.”

Mike lets out a laugh, head tipping back as humor rolls through him. The fact that they’re lying naked in bed speaks to just _how_ he was “up in her business” as they celebrated their not-even two hour old engagement. “Hmm, tell me more about this ‘business’,” Mike says, laughter simmering down to a low chuckle.

El pokes him in the cheek with her left hand, her fingertip digging into the soft skin. “Shouldn’t have to tell you what I just _showed_ you,” she says, a giggle bubbling up in her voice.

“Well, maybe you should show me _again_ ,” Mike says, waggling his eyebrows. “Just to make sure I _fully_ understand.”

It’s El’s turn to roll her eyes and she lifts her hand to give him a light smack on the cheek. Or, she would have if Mike hadn’t reached for her hand. He runs a finger over the sparkling engagement ring on her finger, a ring he just placed there, and curls his thumb along the inside of her fingers. “I’m sorry,” he says, smiling. “I’m just playing.” He brings her hand to his lips, then, pressing feather-light kisses to the tips of each finger, each kiss slow and deliberate. His heart starts racing in his chest, even though it _just_ calmed down after their, _ahem…previous_ activities.

El’s breath hitches in her chest as she stares down at him and Mike revels in the sound as his gaze meets hers. His whole world is reflected in the soft look in her eyes, her gaze so full of love and happiness, it threatens to consume him entirely.

God, he would _gladly_ let it.

A moment later, El pulls her hand away, her lips crashing down on his with an urgency that makes every nerve _sing_ with pleasure, love in every beat of his heart.

Mike lets himself get lost in her, then, lost in the way she kisses him like he’s all she’ll ever need, like she can’t believe he’s here with her, like she’ll be with him _forever._

And he hopes he never, _ever_ finds his way back out.

 

* * *

  
_the unhurried rush of your lips to mine…_

Her mouth meets his with soft sighs – both his _and_ hers – the caress of their lips deep and lingering and _so very slow_. Her hand trails a light touch from the tip of his ear to the corner of his jaw, a lazy path that could really go any number of places. His hand sneaks up under the soft hem of her t-shirt to find the warmth of her skin along the small of her back. Heat, low and simmering, builds beneath them, but it’s completely without urgency, despite how she’s draped across him, her knees planted on either side of his thighs, her weight resting on his legs, as they make out on the couch.

But not just any couch.

_Their_ couch.

_In their very own apartment._

Of all the things Mike loves _most_ about living with El, this is definitely one of his favorites. There’s no need to rush, no need to “get to the good parts” before they get interrupted – hell, there’s no one _to_ interrupt them. They’re in their own apartment, living together finally after 6 years of dating.

And it’s all Mike’s ever wanted.

He’s 19, going to an excellent university, and living on his own with the love of his life.

Who he’s lazily making out with right at this very moment.

Honestly, it’s _perfect._

El’s mouth leaves his, her lips trailing lightly in reverse up along the path her fingers just blazed. “What are you thinking about?” she asks. The words are whispered against the shell of his ear and Mike can’t help but shiver.

“Just how nice this is,” Mike responds, his voice soft and low – not ragged, not yet, not while he’s just _enjoying_ the moment without any need to move beyond it. His fingers dance along the skin of her back. “I love living with you.”

“So you tell me every day,” El says with a snort. It’s not a mean sound, though – just amused. “I love living with you, too.” She punctuates her point with a soft kiss to the tip of his ear, making Mike shiver, before her lips ghost across the length of his cheekbone.

“Hmm, good, because you’re not getting rid of me any time soon,” Mike breathes right before her mouth meets his once more. It’s a kiss that’s rich and full of promise, and yet so soft it would take no effort at all to break it.

Not that he wants to.

He _never_ wants to.

Their mouths meet over and over in countless kisses just like this, her lips lush and soft against his while her hands gently dance across his shoulders, his neck, his chest. Meanwhile, his hand under her shirt continues to trace meaningless patterns against her skin while the other runs through the length of her hair, the strands soft between his fingers.

In a couple of minutes, he could very easily slip his hand further up her shirt, leaving her in no doubt to what his intentions are as he leads them down a path she follows along with so easily (if she’s not leading it herself). He could hold her close as he gets to his feet, urging her to hold on as he carries both of them to their bedroom _(god, **their** bedroom)_ and shows her _just_ how much he loves her.

Or, he could just as easily let their kisses come to a soft and gentle end, as unhurried as the kisses themselves, and just snuggle with her on the couch as they watch TV, quiet and together and so very happy.

But, for the moment, there is just this: his lips meeting hers, accompanied by the soft sound of their breathing, the gentleness of their sighs, the comforting thrill of their caresses, love in every breath and every moment.

And, for now, it’s enough.

 

* * *

  
_until i can eagerly drink from you again…_

He’s all packed – suitcases filled with everything he thinks he might need over the next couple of months (even though he _knows_ it wouldn’t be too much to just have something sent to him if he really needs it).

Mike should be excited right now. He’s flying out to spend two months in the Silicon Valley for a prestigious internship that could be the best thing to ever happen for his future career.

Only he _very much_ wishes he weren’t going.

And the reason is this: the woman standing in front of him as the final boarding call for his plane rings out in the airport terminal. Behind him are the open doors leading down the jetway to the plane that’s going to take him away from El for two months.

_God, he doesn’t want to go._

El’s staring up at him, tears in her eyes, trying to put on the bravest face she can. But he’s known her for so long that he can see right through it and it just breaks his heart. “You should get going,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion.

“I wish you could go with me,” Mike says, the words almost sticking in his throat. Since reuniting back in ’84, almost 8 years ago now, they haven’t spent more than a week apart. And now he’s facing _two months_ without her.

El smiles, sniffling a little, her lower lip wobbling. “I can’t miss my summer class. Not if I want to graduate on time.”

Mike nods. “I know. But it still _sucks._ ”

El nods. “Yeah, it does.” She tries smiling again. “But I’ll see you when I come out to visit you for a weekend at the end of the month.”

“Yeah, and I’ll call you _every day._ ”

El let out a laugh that is far too close to a sob for Mike’s liking. “Not if I call you first,” she says. She reaches for him then, her hand landing on his chest, fingers trembling perceptively through the thin material of his t-shirt.

Mike can’t resist, can’t stop himself from pulling her towards him. His fingers slide into her hair as his mouth meets hers in a hungry, _desperate_ kiss, their lips meeting over and over again, like if they keep kissing, they’ll be able to forestall the inevitable. El clutches him tight and Mike tastes the saltiness of her tears on his lips and tongue. He thinks some of it must be his tears, as well, his own sadness at having to leave mingling with hers.

They stop kissing a few seconds later – there’s _really_ only so much longer Mike can stay until he misses his plane – and they pull away with dual gasps.

Mike hugs her tight, one last time, clutching her as close as possible. “I love you,” he breathes.

“I love you, too,” El gasps out, her breath hot on his throat. “Go, before you can’t,” she says as she pulls away.

Mike steps away, shaking, trembling more with every inch that separates them. “I’ll call you when I land, ok?”

One of El’s hands comes up to her sternum, fingers curling lightly over her heart. “You promise?” she says, lips trembling as a sob  escapes her.

“I promise. _Always._ ” Mike keeps walking backwards, even as he hands the attendant his ticket and steps onto the jetway, until he can no longer see her.

But, the entire time, El doesn’t move, doesn’t look away, tears streaming down her face, and Mike’s heart _shatters_ into a million pieces.

A few moments later, Mike collapses into the seat that will be his for the next 4 hours, the entire time feeling like his heart has sunk down to his toes.

Though Mike knows that this opportunity is great for him, he knows part of him is going to hate it the entire time he’s away.

And when he returns and gets back to El, back to the woman who’s as necessary to him as the air he breathes?

He’s never, _ever,_ going to let her go.

_Ever again._

 

* * *

  
_to tide me over ‘til next we meet…_

“Hey, don’t you have work?”

“Yeah, in a few minutes. Got out of class a little early. Just wanted to stop by and say hi before I go.” She smiles at him. “Gimme a kiss?”

Mike grins, even as he’s rolling his eyes. “El, _I’m_ at work.”

“Then I’ll be quick.” El’s eyes sparkle with flirty mischief, her smile both sweet and coy as she leans _just so_ against the surface that separates them.

Mike chuckles, but he’s still leaning over the front desk of the electronics repair store where he works part-time. “Hmm, well I don’t like the sound of _that,_ ” he says before he brushes a soft kiss to her lips.

El lingers longer than is strictly appropriate. Her hand comes up to thread in his hair, her fingertips scraping lightly against his scalp in a way that makes Mike shiver, both thrilling and familiar at the same time. It surprises him sometimes that, even after 7 years of dating, of getting to be with her and love her, that she can still affect him like this, can still make his heart race and his breath hitch in his chest. And, with every day that goes by, he realizes more and more that it’s _always_ going to be like this, that she’s always going to affect him like this for the rest of his life.

Breaking the kiss is just about the hardest thing Mike’s ever done, but he pulls back enough so he can speak, his mouth moving against hers in the shape of his words while his hand comes down to cup her elbow to keep her close. “You’re going to get me fired, you know,” he murmurs against her lips, his mouth curling in a small, satisfied smile. As it is, he can feel the eyes of his coworkers on him and El, openly staring.

(Mike can’t blame them, really. His coworkers all have similar enough stories to his, or at least stories that  _could_ have been his: A/V nerds who’ve spent their entire lives dreaming and fantasizing about girls like El from a distance. It’s a combination of awe and envy that draws the stares of his coworkers, that “one of their own” seems to have figured out how to attract the attention of a beautiful woman.

Mike doesn’t have the heart to tell them the truth of how it happened. That she found _him,_ not the other way around - that he was looking for something completely different when she crashed into his life and he’s just been smart enough to let her call all the shots.)

“Hmm, totally worth it, though,” El says, her lips sweet and tantalizing against his. Mike can’t help but agree - even though he _really_ likes his job, there will never be anything as amazing as the simple magic of his lips against hers.

El presses one more kiss against his lips - not as long as their previous one, but with a _lot_ more heat. It’s more than a kiss - it’s a _promise_ , a preview of things to come, full of love and seduction. Mike’s heart pounds in his chest, his blood hearing as it races in his veins.

El pulls back with a suddenness that leaves him feeling almost dizzy, a knowingly coy smile on her face. “See you at home,” she says, her voice low and breathy, as she turns, winking at him over her shoulder.

Mike stares at her for just a second, awed and gobsmacked and simply blown away by how easily El gets him all twisted around and turned upside down. He comes back to his senses enough to smile at her in return, though it’s more of a grin than anything else and Mike can see that El’s affected by it by the way her eyes widen and her gaze drops to his mouth for just a second. “Hmm, can’t wait,” he says, his voice lower and raspier than he expected.

“Love you,” El says as she starts to walk towards the door.

“Love you, too,” Mike calls after her. He shamelessly watches the exaggerated sway of her hips as she reaches for the handle of the door before she gives him one last look, flirty and suggestive and _oh god_ , before she slips out the door. Mike finds he can suddenly breath again once she’s gone, her absence sending all of the oxygen rushing back into the room.

“You’re one lucky bastard, you know that?” one of his coworkers grumbles.

“Yeah, I know,” Mike murmurs, barely paying attention. His mind too busy occupying itself with all thing _El_ and counting the minutes until they’re both back home... _and completely alone._

_God, he can’t wait._

 

* * *

  
_i beg of you, your patience…_

She’s been looking forward to this for _weeks_ \- the lights, the food, the crowds, _the rides._ Every time she sees the commercials on TV, her eyes just light up, as bright as the incandescent bulbs that line the marquee signs over the entrance.

Mike know this because he’s _seen_ her face when those commercials air. He’s heard her sighs and watched her eyes widen before turning towards him with naked longing in her gaze.

Mike can totally understand her excitement, though. It’s an excitement he shares, but for a completely different reason.

Because the County Fair is coming to Hawkins. And Hopper’s given them permission for the fair’s opening day to be El’s first _official_ outing (all the times she’s hung out with them at Will’s house and in his basement when he could figure out a way to sneak her over with all the others without his mom finding out _doesn’t count_ ).

_World, get ready to meet El Hopper. Because nothing will be the same afterwards._

Mike’s waiting for her outside the entrance, arms crossed over his chest as he rests his weight on one leg, the other jiggling with a combination of nerves and excitement. People are streaming past him, groups breaking around him when necessary, as they make their way towards the entrance. Mike knows he could probably get out of the way and go wait somewhere else. But El made him _promise_ to meet her by the entrance, in a spot where he couldn’t miss her arrival. And Mike’s not about to break his promise.

The smells of fair food wrap delicately around him, tempting him and beckoning him inside. Mike knows that the rest of the Party is already inside, probably indulging in some of that food already, and he longs to join them. But not without El.

_Never_ without El.

Not when he finally can be out with her in public, where he can hold her hand and show her all the things he’s told her about for months while he visited her in that cooped up cabin.

_Maybe he can even steal a couple of kisses, here and there._

The thought of kissing her brings a goofy smile to Mike’s face and he can feel his face heating up in a blush that he hopes just looks like a mild sunburn.

The fact that Mike gets to kiss El, who’s without a doubt the prettiest girl he’s _ever_ met in his entire life, still almost doesn’t feel real. Sure, he kisses her hello and goodbye every time he sees her (and several more times when it’s just the two of them hanging out – though that’s often _her_ kissing _him,_ an occasion that always makes his heart skip happily in his chest as it means that she likes kissing him as much as he likes kissing her). But losers like him don’t usually get to kiss girls like her. They just _don’t._

_So how did he end up so lucky?_

The appearance of Hopper’s police cruiser pulls Mike out of his spiraling thoughts and everything just goes blissfully still as the car stops not 20 feet in front of where Mike’s standing. His arms drop to his sides and he can see everyone give the official vehicle a wary glance – _is there an emergency? is someone in trouble?_

But when the car doesn’t stop and, instead, the passenger side door opens instead, people dismiss it without a second thought.

Which is good for Mike because he’s not sure if he wants everyone watching him nearly have a heart attack at the sight of the girl who emerges from the front seat.

For a moment, El isn’t looking at him – she’s too busy looking back at Hopper, her mouth moving in words Mike can’t hear but are probably promises not to be stupid and to meet back here at a certain time – but when she closes the door and looks across the space that separates the two of them, Mike feels time all but _stop_.

El smiles at him, all excited and giddy and a little nervous (he doesn’t miss the way she glances at the crowds with a wariness that makes his heart twist painfully in his chest), and Mike tries to smile back the best he can. It’s just so hard when she’s so _pretty_ , standing there wearing a blue and teal patterned blouse that looks so good against the light tan of her skin. Her hair’s half pulled back high on her head, secured there with a scrunchie, with the rest of her shoulder-length soft curls left down to float around her neck, the strands lightly bleached by the summer sun they’ve spent so much time beneath.

But, really, most of all, what’s stealing Mike’s breath is the way she’s looking at him, unbearably happy and almost in disbelief that she’s _finally_ here.

It’s all that he’s ever wanted for her and he hopes _desperately_ that this day doesn’t disappoint.

El approaches him, then, which is good because Mike feels rooted to the spot, like her sheer presence has made him lose all control of his limbs. “Hi,” she says, eyes shining, lips curling in a smile that’s almost shy.

“Hi,” Mike says back, the word leaving him in more of a breath than a spoken sound. “You’re here.” He pauses, grinning. “Did Hopper give you shit before getting out of the car?”

El giggles ( _god, he loves that sound_ ) and nods. “Don’t be stupid. Be back here by 6 _or else_ ,” she says, lowering her voice comically to mimic Hopper’s gruff tones.

Mike laughs. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“Won’t be stupid, though. Should know that by now,” El says. She shakes her head, quick, like she’s dispelling the thought. “Not important right now.” She reaches for him, then, her hand grabbing onto his so she can lace her fingers with his. “We’re here.”

“Yeah, we’re here,” Mike says, smiling so wide his cheeks are about to start hurting. He knows exactly what she means by the simple words – he _always_ seems to know what she’s saying, even if she doesn’t have the exact right words at the time. They’re here, _together_ , with her out in the world for real, safe and happy and _free._ It’s everything exactly as it should be.

He gently jostles their joined hands, eager to get started. “You wanna go in? The others are already inside somewhere.”

El nods excitedly, hair bouncing from the motion and neither of them say anything as Mike pulls her towards the entrance, unwilling to let go of her hand except to pull out the money he needs to buy their tickets ( _oh god, is this like a date? are they on a **date**?_).

Mike’s been to the fair before – none of this is exactly new for him – so he doesn’t need to take in the sights as they step through the turnstile. Instead, he’s eagerly watching El’s reaction to the whole thing, heart pounding in her chest with fervent hope. **_Please_** _let her like it._

Luckily, she seems to do exactly that. Her eyes widen as she looks around at everything, her mouth parting in soft, happy shock. “What do you think?” Mike asks, unable to hold back the grin that stretches over his lips.

“It’s so _awesome_ ,” El breathes, neck craning so she can look at everything, unable to focus on any one thing for long. “I didn’t know it would be so loud and I smell…food?” She looks at him, then, face scrunched up adorably in confusion.

Mike laughs, because he can’t _not_ , and nods. “Yeah, fair food. It’s pretty awesome. Just don’t eat too much of it – it can make you sick. Unless you’d like to puke like Dustin did last year when he ate too much funnel cake.”

El’s nose scrunches up and she frowns a little. “Ew, gross.”

“Yeah, gross,” Mike says. A flash of pink catches his attention out of the corner of his eye and an idea hits him with the force of a semi-truck. He looks at her, squeezing her hand. “Hey, wait here. I’ll be right back.” To punctuate his point, he leans over and gives her a quick kiss – their first of the day ( _but definitely not their **last** , if the plans Mike has for riding the Ferris Wheel have anything to say about it_).

El lets out a surprised squeak, more of a gasp, at the suddenness of his lips pressed against to hers and Mike’s heart races in his chest at the feel of her leaning into the kiss, her lips soft against his in a way that sends excited shivers down his spine and makes every inch of his skin break out into tingling goosebumps. He pulls back a second later to see her looking up at him with dazed happiness and Mike feels like he’s the king of the world. “Where are you going?” she asks, voice pitched with breathiness that is _oh so thrilling_.

Mike gives her hand one last squeeze before he slips his hand away, grinning at her all the while. “You’ll see. Just…wait here.”

Mike dashes away for the booth he spotted, hand digging into his pocket for more money – he has enough from both his mom _and_ from Hopper to, and he can quote, “make sure El has a good time”. Luckily, the line isn’t long and it’s only about a minute before Mike’s heading back to El, prize in one hand and an excited smile on his face.

El’s right where he left her, looking at him curiously, eyes darting back and forth between his face and what’s in his hand. “What’s that?” she asks, pointing delicately.

Mike holds out the cone in his hand. “It’s cotton candy. Remember us telling you about it?”

El’s eyes light up and she reaches for it, hand jerking back a little when her fingers brush up against the sticky spider-web cloud of sugar. “How do I…?”

“Oh, here,” Mike says. “You just rip a little off. It sometimes stretches a little, but it comes apart pretty easy. Like this.” Mike demonstrates, grabbing a piece of candy fluff and twisting so he can rip off a piece about the size of a half-dollar. “Here, try it.” He holds it out and El takes it from his gentle grip, pinching it a bit between her fingers before popping the piece in her mouth.

Her eyes widen a split second later. “It melts!” she breathes out.

Mike nods. “Yeah, it’s just flavored sugar that they warm up real hot and blow air into. So it melts pretty quick when you eat it from your saliva. Did you like it though?”

“It’s good. _Sweet,_ ” El says, nodding enthusiastically.

Mike laughs. El has something of a notorious sweet tooth (a by-product, Mike thinks, of growing up in that fucking lab), so it’s no wonder she likes the cotton candy. “Well, good, we can share it, then.” He glances around him before looking back at El, a smile on his face. “Wanna go check out the rest of the fair? Maybe we’ll find the others along the way.”

El reaches down and grabs the hand not holding the cotton candy. “Sounds good,” she says. “Can we go on some of the rides?”

“Whatever you want, El,” he says, squeezing her hand tightly. “Come on, lets go.”

Mike pulls her along with him, the two of them walking side by side as they disappear deeper onto the fairgrounds. Excitement races through him – at being here with her, at her finally allowed out in the world, at _all_ of it – and Mike finds that he can’t stop smiling.

This is going to be _fantastic._

He just knows it.

 

* * *

  
_for the lightness of heart you bring into my life…_

The sigh of relief that rushes out of him as he steps in through the front door is almost embarrassing in how palpable it is. Honestly, he loves his students, he really does – but hosting a final review session on a Saturday morning is more exhausting than he could have imagined. They all had _so many questions_ and now he’s afraid of how they’re all going to do on the final.

_No, stop. They’ve been doing well in the class so far, all things considered. You’re a good teacher, they’re just anxious. Stop worrying._

The inner voice, which sounds _so_ much like his wife it’s almost not funny – calms him down and gives him the room to breathe as he walks through the entryway and into the kitchen.

It’s true, he _is_ a good teacher. Sure, he’s only been doing it for a couple of years, but he hasn’t had any complaints so far and the evaluations he gets from his students are mostly glowing.

_So just relax._

Again, the voice of his wife rings in his head and Mike smiles. It shouldn’t surprise him that his inner monologue has taken on El’s beautiful tones. It just speaks to how much he loves her. And he really, _really_ does.

And, speaking of his wonderful wife…. “El, I’m home!” he calls out as he dumps his satchel on one of the kitchen table chairs.

There’s no response.

Mike’s brow furrows, confusion taking over. Her car’s out front and there’s no note on the fridge, so she’s _home_.

So where is she?

Mike grins. He knows how to get her to respond. “El, honey?” he calls out once more, moving to stand by the foot of the stairs.

“Don’t call me ‘honey’!” is the response he gets, the voice muffled from where it reaches him from somewhere upstairs.

Mike laughs – _got her!_ – and he all but races up the stairs as he goes in search of her. He and El aren’t big on pet names – actually, El _hates_ them and a surefire way for him to get her all riled up is to call her ‘honey’ or ‘baby’ or something equally as inane.

So, naturally, he does it. _A lot._

What can he say? Bickering is one of his favorite forms of foreplay.

It doesn’t take Mike long to find her. Really, there’s only a couple of rooms she could be in upstairs and he finds her in the first room he looks in.

Mike leans against the open doorway, one shoulder propped against the wooden jamb as he stuffs his hands into his pocket. And he laughs a second later as he takes in the scene in front of him. “El, what are you doing?”

El’s standing in the middle of the room, dressed for a lazy day in. Her hair’s up in a loose, messy bun, stray wisps having escaped to frame her face and brush against the skin along the nape of her neck. She’s wearing comfortable leggings and a thin, white tank top that do _absolutely nothing_ to hide the shape of her body…including the baby bump that’s become so prominent in the past few weeks. And, all around her, paint brushes are flying through the air, creating a Jackson Pollock-esque kaleidoscope of color against the walls of the nursery they’ve been preparing for.

Yes, Mike’s 5-month pregnant wife is standing in the middle of their unborn daughter’s nursery, making half a dozen paint brushes dance in the air with nothing more than her mind.

_How is this even his life?_

El turns to see him, a playful smile on face. “I’m painting!” she says cheekily, eyes twinkling.

“Does Will know you’re abusing his paint brushes like this?” Mike asks as he steps into the room.

Slowly, the brushes lower and float over to where several small trays of paint are resting against a drop cloth. “Hey, he said I could borrow them,” El says as Mike reaches her and pulls her towards him, going gladly into the gentle circle of his arms.

Mike arches an eyebrow. “I’m sure _this_ wasn’t what he had in mind when he agreed to let you use them.”

El giggles. “Well, then, he shouldn’t have given them to me.” She grins. “Besides, the baby likes it.”

“Oh, she does, does she?” Mike asks, barely holding back a laugh. It’s become El’s go-to excuse over the past few weeks for just about anything. Pickles and ketchup at 3 in the morning? The baby likes it. Mike gently massaging her scalp for a half an hour, despite the way his fingers cramp up? The baby likes it. The horror movies she forces him to sit down at watch with her? The baby likes it.

“The baby likes a _lot_ of things, Mike,” El says, biting her lip to try and contain her smile as she raises her arms so that her hands clasp behind his neck.

“So I’m discovering,” Mike says, unable to hold back his laugh any longer as he shakes his head at her. “You’re so silly. What am I going to do with you?” he murmurs as he leans over to kiss her, her mouth soft and warm beneath his, lips parting gently as she breathes in almost sharply through her nose. His stomach swoops dangerously at the feel of her mouth open against his, the light caress of her tongue almost sinful as it drags along his bottom lip.

“Hmm, I have a couple of ideas, actually, now that you mention it,” El whispers when their lips part just enough so she can speak.

Mike looks down at her, a knowing grin stretching his lips at the look in her eyes. Pregnancy certainly has done… _interesting_ things to El’s hormones. Especially now that they’re solidly out of the first trimester.

And Mike isn’t complaining _at all_. “Maybe you should show me what those ideas are. Say, maybe, in the bedroom?”

El giggles, the sound low and rich. “Ooh, looks like we _both_ have good ideas. We’re so smart, Mike.”

Mike reaches for her hands, pulling them down from behind his neck so he can start leading them towards their bedroom. “We really are.”

El gladly follows and the afternoon gets away from them, then, lost in a lazy haze of love and laughter, paint and paint brushes left far behind in the wake of more _important_ things.

( _suffice it to say, will’s paintbrushes are ruined, but that’s neither here nor there for the moment._

_besides, all is forgiven when mike buys will a replacement set. and when will asks why the first one got ruined? mike coughs and blushes and makes vague hand gestures that has will rolling his eyes and telling mike to “just forget it. i don’t want to know.”_ )

 

* * *

  
_i will always be yours…_

The soft sounds of Ella Fitzgerald’s dulcet tones ring out across the reception hall, “At Last” playing just loud enough to drown out the low conversations that are taking place at the edge of the dance floor.

But Mike’s barely paying attention to anything but the woman in his arms.

And not just any woman.

_His wife._

El’s _stunning_ , dressed all in white, hair pinned back with delicate flowers woven in through the strands, face glowing and sparkling and _holy shit,_ Mike’s the luckiest man on the face of the planet.

His brand-new wedding ring is the best kind of unfamiliar weight on his finger and a perfect match to a similar one encircling El’s ring finger. He can’t see her left hand – it’s perched on his shoulder where she’s using it to steady herself as they share their first dance as husband and wife, his right hand at her waist so he can hold her close, their free hands clasped together – but he knows it’s there and it’s the most amazing feeling in the world, to know that she’s his and he’s hers.

Granted, that’s been the case from the second he found her in the woods (even if he didn’t know it exactly at the time). It’s just that it’s _official_ now, legal and everything for the eyes of the world to see.

Mike almost can’t believe it, can’t believe that this wonderful, _divine_ creature has agreed to be with him, ‘til death to they part, for as long as they both shall live. What did he do right to deserve this?

El smiles up him and Mike swears he’s just died and gone to heaven. “What are you thinking about up there?” she asks, her voice soft and quiet, _intimate_ , just loud enough so only he can hear her.

Mike feels his lips stretch in a smile that is a mirror of hers. “Just about how much I love you, about how I’ve never been happier.”

El shakes her head, like she’s amusedly exasperated, but he can see the thin sheen of tears that gather in her eyes and he knows she’s just as affected by everything as he is. “You’re such a sap,” she teases.

“Hey, that’s not a nice thing to say on our wedding day,” Mike says with a grin. “Or do you want me to tell our future children that their mother was mean to their darling father on the day where they promised themselves to each other for everyone to see?”

El arches an eyebrow, which somehow makes her look even _more_ beautiful (how, he doesn’t know…). “Oh, is that how this is going to go, then?”

“Yep, absolutely,” Mike quips back, even as his heart’s pounding in his chest at the thought of _their future children._ “I figure telling mean stories about you is the only way they’re going to even look twice at me since you’re definitely going to be the cool parent between the two of us.”

El groans even as she giggles. “Mike, that’s _not_ what’s going to happen,” she says with a shake of her head.

“Oh, how do you know? Can you see the future now?” he asks, brow arching.

El huffs a sigh and rolls her eyes. “You’re going to spoil our children rotten and they’re going to be eternally loyal to you for it.”

“Hmm, that does sound like something I’d do,” Mike says after a moment. “Buying their love.” He lets out a laugh, struck by the absurdity of them having this conversation on their wedding day, of all days. “I love you, by the way, so much. In case I haven’t told you recently.

“Oh, it’s been about 10 minutes, so you were due to say it again,” El says, eyes sparkling with humor and happiness so bright, it’s almost blinding. “I love you, too. _Always._ ” She stares up at him, boundless love reflected in her gaze. “I can’t believe we’re here, Mike. We’re _married._ ”

Mike lets out a stuttering breath. “I know, El. I know.” The awe in his voice resonates all the way down to his toes and Mike knows he’s never going to come down from this high. He’s going to be untethered for all the rest of his days, set free by the ties that bind him to her.

El sighs and gives him a smile that pierces him straight in the heart, overwhelmed and shaky and so, _so_ beautiful. “Kiss me?”

_Oh, she only ever has to ask…._ Mike doesn’t respond with words as he slows their dancing down to a stop, planting them solidly in the middle of the dance floor as he leans over and kisses her, kisses his _wife_. Her mouth is soft and pliant beneath his, warm and accepting and freeing and every beautiful thing that’s ever existed in the entire universe. Mike experiences eternity in the simple act of kissing her. She is his deity, his guiding star, and the soft press of his lips to hers is his worship of her made real. He kisses her like he never wants to do anything else, because he never, _ever_ does.

And each and every time, he falls in love with her all over again.

 

* * *

  
_as i’ve always been from the start._

He’s 12 years old and he’s never kissed a girl before. He’s never _wanted_ to kiss a girl before this. But this girl is special, even with her short hair and clothes she’s “borrowing” from his sister. She’s a real-life superhero, the girl who saved them, who found his missing friend, who can flip vans over with her mind and can find anybody anywhere in the world just by knowing what they look like.

He’s never met anyone else like her.

And he never will, he knows it.

It’s been a wild rush of a week – losing his friend, finding her, discovering that monsters are real, but so are superpowered heroes, discovering how his stomach can swoop and his heart can feel like it’s going to explode from his chest at the sight of a pretty girl.

But not just any pretty girl.

The one sitting in front of him in the cafeteria at school while their friends go to raid the pantries, looking at him with questioning eyes as he explains things like school dances and why she’s _not_ like a sister.

Only he can’t find the right words. She has him all flustered, all twisted around, and he’s getting tangled up in his own short-comings.

An idea hits him – how to explain, how to make her _see_ – and before he can talk himself out of it, he’s leaning forward, rushed and quick, heart pounding in his throat. He presses his lips to hers and he swears stars explode behind his closed eyelids. Her lips are soft, softer than his, and so, _so_ warm. He feels her tense up and he hopes he didn’t make her feel uncomfortable (which would be a shame because this is _so amazing_ ).

It’s not a long kiss, over and done in the space between breaths – not like some of the ones he’s seen on TV that have made him groan and twist his face in disgust because, _ew, kissing is gross._

But it actually isn’t. Kissing is _awesome_.

_So long as you do it with the right person._

He sits back, anxiety racing through him as he rushes to see her face, to see her reaction. Did she like it? Is she grossed out about it? _God,_ he hopes not….

He only smiles when he sees her smiling first, the look on her face so pretty as her cheeks grow pink with a light blush, as her lips stretch in a shy smile that makes him feel like he can do anything.

He doesn’t know it now, but this kiss is the first of _many,_ of countless presses of his lips to hers, in every shape and flavor, every emotion and sensation. Kisses in love, kisses in laughter and amusement and comfort. Kisses to say good night, to say hello, to say ‘I’m here’. Kisses that lead to more than just kissing, kisses that exist just to _be._ He will experience them _all_ with her over the course of a lifetime spent by her side, of the decades that will stretch between them until they’re old and gray.

But that’s a story for a different day.

Right now there’s just this: a 12-year old boy delighting in his first kiss with the most amazing girl he’s ever met in his entire life.

And in this moment, right before everything falls apart, before 353 days and calling out to her every night without response, he _knows,_ even if he doesn’t have the words, even if the words are too big and scary for a 12-year old who’s just discovering the boundless world of emotion that can exist when you find that one perfect person.

He loves her.

_And he always will._

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, honestly, this wasn't supposed to be all from Mike's POV. But I got caught up in Mike Wheeler feels, so I just went with it.
> 
> (also, yes, _i know_ this isn't the last chapter of "give me your room...", but this idea grabbed me and wouldn't let go until i wrote it. hopefully 14k words of fluff is enough to ease you through the disappointment.)


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